Invitation to Dance
by sleepykit
Summary: Best leave the past where it belongs, or it might just return to be your future. Cloud was going to learn that one mighty quick. This happens at some point after the movie. Rewritten.


**Prologue**

Inside the green-tinged mako tank, the bird-like creature took its final, pained breath and chirped a farewell to the world it was leaving behind. As if slow to catch up, its heart still beat for a moment longer before it too grew silent. A panel of machines that were monitoring its life signs blinked and beeped softly into the lab's otherwise impenetrable silence. With eerie efficiency, the green liquid began to drain.

"Damn it," growled the man in the white lab coat. "Another failed experiment."

Venting his anger, he kicked the side of a metal filing cabinet, leaving behind a dent in the bottom drawer. His already hard features looked even stiffer in the room's dim lighting, and though it could have been a trick of the light, briefly his crimson eyes seemed to glow the color of angry flames. His short, straight hair—also the color of blood—lay plastered against his head, slicked down with gel and wet in appearance.

Shrugging out of his lab coat, he hung it roughly on a hook by the door before exiting the lab. Outside, the hall stood brightly-lit and empty. In a deserted place like this, the need for guards bordered on minimal and keeping them in check wasn't his duty anyway. In measured steps, he strolled down the many halls, as familiar with the layout as the back of his own hand.

He came to a halt in front of an unmarked office door and walked inside as though he owned the place. He preferred working alone but this partnership was a necessity of sorts, a mutual hatred that drove both him and the other toward lofty goals. Taking a seat in one of the plush chairs in front of a large, wooden desk, he crossed his legs and closed his eyes. Like a predator, he waited—if there was one thing he cultivated, it was patience.

When this other finally made his appearance, it was fifteen minutes later. He opened the door to his own office and one side of his face frowned as the sight of a casually extended leg stretched across his favorite rug. This man was the shorter of the two and dressed in a two-colored trench coat that divided his body into distinct sides, one white and the other black. Like his clothes, his face was similarly bisected, and the skin of one side looked spray painted the color of the walls.

"If you're here, it can only mean one thing," said the pale mouth.

Red eyes looked up, for the first time even acknowledging the other man's presence. "You would be correct, Damien. Even when performed slowly, the mako infusion was still deadly."

"Monsters are already weak-minded. Perhaps what we need are better test subjects." The two-faced one sat down behind the desk and opened a folder. "Hojo's notes are clear that it can be done. ShinRa's whole SOLDIER program relied on Mako enhancement techniques."

"What do you have in mind?"

"Two possibilities. First, I have some tissue samples from dead SOLDIER operatives. Growing a clone of one should pose no complications. Secondly, any still life alive currently reside in Edge. One specially stands out."

"Ug." The man who was red from head to toe shook his head. "Edge is a disgusting place."

Damien nodded his agreement. "That may be true, but the research must continue, even if it means taking a trip there." He grinned. "Don't worry, Ron. I think I have a plan."

***

Slowly, the people of once proud Midgar was starting to rebuild their world, somehow putting together the pieces that had been brutally torn apart either by ShinRa or, later, by Sephiroth. At first, geostigma had haunted their children, but now they could look at one pale-haired man and say with some certainty that the disease had been cured, that he had cured it. And though his eyes were still the color of SOLDIER, he was at least briefly, forgiven.

_As the sins of the father, they become the sins of the son._

To some extent, the world had lapsed into a precarious peace, driven not by a lack of ambition so much as dire need. All across the world, supply and fuel shortages posed almost insurmountable challenges and the separate lands looked to themselves for stability. Still, the sun rose morning and set with the coming of night, and dreary as it might be, the world moved on.


End file.
